


late for this, late for that

by diana_hawthorne (stsgirlie)



Series: Private Lives [7]
Category: Law & Order
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stsgirlie/pseuds/diana_hawthorne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after Claire's death, Liz and Mike meet for a drink.</p><p>Set in December 1996.</p>
            </blockquote>





	late for this, late for that

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic comes from the brilliant Lumineers song "Cleopatra."

‘Hi… it’s Liz. I was wondering if you’d meet me for a drink on Wednesday, nine o’clock? At Bemelman’s?’ A pause, then she resumes, ‘Leave a message at the office if you can’t make it. If you can, I’ll see you tomorrow.’ There is another long pause before she hangs up the phone.

He presses play on his answering machine again, listening to the message a second time, unable to take it in after a long day of work. It’s been six months since he’s heard from her, since Claire died. She never responded to his many phone calls after he let it slip he’d bought her a ring, was going to propose before everything went to hell. He still wanted to be with her, he was still in love with her… maybe she’s finally come around, he thinks, and his heart gives a leap. Surely she wouldn’t suggest Bemelman’s unless she wanted to patch things up. It’s just around the corner from her apartment and is cozy and romantic, just the sort of place she would pick for a reconciliation.

He had a date tomorrow night but he rings her up and cancels it. Liz is obviously far more important.

He rushes out of the precinct as soon as the clock strikes five, getting home around 7. He fries up a couple eggs for dinner--all he has in the fridge after a week of sixteen-hour days--and then showers and dresses carefully, putting on one of the well-cut suits Liz bought him for Christmas three years ago. He makes sure to straighten up the apartment before he leaves, trying to quiet the anticipation running through his blood.

She’s already waiting for him even though he’s fifteen minutes early. She doesn’t notice him at first and he takes a moment to drink her in. God, she looks better than ever, but nervous, dressed carefully in a full-skirted navy silk dress he remembers very well. As he walks over to her she takes a sip of her martini, setting the glass down in surprise as he reaches her table.

‘Hi, Lizzie,’ he says, unable to restrain his smile. ‘You look wonderful.’ He dips his head to kiss her and she turns her face abruptly so that his intended kiss lands on her cheek instead. He pulls back, a sinking feeling in his stomach as she gives him a tight, apologetic smile.

‘Thank you for coming,’ she says, her hands clutched agitatedly in her lap. He pulls out his chair and sits next to her, leaning back, one arm slung over the back of his chair, deceptively casual. ‘How are you?’

‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ he says, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. He’s grateful that the waiter interrupts them, breaking the tension. Liz orders another martini and he orders a scotch, their drinks arriving with admirable promptness. He notices that she drains hers quickly, as though she’s trying to work up the nerve to say something. He waits and watches her, toying with her empty glass.

‘I wanted to tell you before you heard it from someone else--’ she begins, then breaks off, looking up at him.

‘Tell me what?’ he asks, his heart plummeting through the floor. What has she got to say to him? She’s seeing someone else, she’s sick, she’s leaving New York?

‘I’m getting married.’

‘What?’ he exclaims, and she reaches out to him, to quell his anger. He catches sight of the ring on her finger and seizes her left hand, staring at the remarkably large diamond. It mocks him, and he looks back into her eyes, still clutching her hand. She bites her lip but forces herself to hold his gaze.

‘So who’s the guy? Didn’t think you were seein’ anyone,’ he says, voice carefully even. ‘Is it what’s-his-name, Jim?’

‘I’m marrying Ben.’

‘Ben who?’ he asks, honestly perplexed for a moment though suddenly it dawns on him. ‘Ben _Stone_?’

She nods, lips pressed together as she nods miserably.

‘I thought he was in Europe.’

‘He was. He came back after Claire’s funeral. We started seeing each other then.’

He leans back in astonishment, staring at her, unable to take in her words. She’s never been an impulsive person and this is completely out of character. Astonishment fades quickly into anger and he snaps.

‘So you’ve been together for six fucking months and you’re gonna marry him? Jesus, Liz!’

Furious, he drops her hand to take a deep swig of his whiskey. He motions for another and then looks back at her. ‘We were together for three and a half years and you wouldn’t marry me!’

‘Because you _never_ asked me!’ she reminds him in anguish, raising her hand to wipe away sudden tears. The diamond on her finger glitters despite the dim light. ‘Don’t you think I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat?’

‘Then why the hell didn’t you listen to me six months ago? I told you I wanted to marry you, and instead you go off and jump into bed with Ben Stone? What the fuck were you thinking?’

She takes a deep breath to compose herself. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘Then tell me what happened! Did what we have really mean so little to you that you could throw it away?’

Her eyes are filled with pain as she looks at him and his heart aches. ‘I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I’m going to marry him.’ She stands up, leaving some cash on the table to pay their bill. ‘Goodbye, Mike.’

He grabs her arm, stopping her from leaving. ‘Don’t go, Liz.’

She rests her hand on his, gently easing his grip, and frees herself. She drops her gaze to keep from looking at him and walks away without a backward glance. He stares down at his drink, frozen and defeated.

‘Another whiskey?’ the waiter asks, and he looks up in annoyance.

‘No,’ he responds, and stands up to walk out of the bar. She’s already gone.


End file.
